Not a Dame
by Pipamonium
Summary: Newkirk is only allowed to dress as an old lady for a reason. *** Cross-posted from AO3, this IS Newgan slash. Originally six double-drabble chapters.


The mission was a success! There were a few close calls, they'd nearly even walked straight into a Hochstetter-Klink duet but managed to dodge the pair at the last second - entirely by luck. Now they were in the free and clear, the papers stolen from the safe tucked securely in Hogan's breast pocket and not a single Nazi back at the party the wiser. Feeling giddy, Hogan didn't think as he reached an arm out to wrap around his date and drew them into a celebratory kiss. Hands held him away by the shoulder, "Er - Guv'nor… you do know I'm not actually a... ah dame - right?"

Hogan flushed because he _had_ kind of forgotten. "Of course not Peter," he blustered, the name feeling awkward in his mouth but less awkward than calling him by his surname or rank would have in that moment.

"Well that's alright then," Newkirk replied and leaned in to give his commanding officer a small sweet kiss. Hogan froze, finding he could do little more than blink in surprise. Newkirk chuckled at the expression, twisting away in a flurry of skirts. "Coming sir?" he called playfully over his shoulder, eyes twinkling mischievously, leading the way home.

* * *

Hogan trailed after his enigmatic Corporal, his thoughts in a haze. The Colonel was finding himself feeling rather disturbed, not because he had kissed his subordinate on accident or even because said subordinate kissed him quite on purpose immediately after… rather he was feeling disturbed because he didn't feel disturbed. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that he was contemplating the idea of trying for a third.

The night was growing late, the moon rising high, the forest floor dappled in crystal moonlight cut by the shadows of leaves. Newkirk had no right looking so ethereal gliding through the forest. He should look ridiculous! It shouldn't look natural for his hips to gently sway to the rhythm of his steps, for his skirt to swish about shapely calves encased in precious nylons. Looking at him, Hogan should be able to spot the man beneath the disguise! He shouldn't feel drawn in by the glances Newkirk threw him every so often over his shoulder - somehow managing to be demure, coy, and wicked all at once.

He shouldn't want, but he did. How far would he be allowed to go? Was he ready to find out? Dare he try?

* * *

They were fast approaching the outer limits of the patrols routes, he still couldn't decide what he wanted. He needed more time! Darting forward, Hogan took a firm hold of his Brits arm and yanked spinning a started Corporal into his arms. He opened his mouth to speak but found he couldn't.

Shock morphed into amusement. "Cat got your tongue sir?" Newkirk breathed, voice carefully modulated to be neither and both feminine and masculine.

"Thought you weren't a dame," Hogan retorted.

"No more than you're a _Luftwaffe_ Colonel," Newkirk replied with a subtle gesture of his chin to Hogan's uniform. "But it's fun to pretend. That _is_ the point of this innit? Of wearing disguises? To be someone else?" His smirk turned sharp, "Peter Newkirk ain't no bird but… I don't see him here. Do you? Do you really want to?"

Hogan was distracted from answering by fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. Soft lips brush a teasing row of kisses from the corner of his mouth to the shell of his ear where Newkirk whispers, "Let yourself pretend. Anyone you want." He couldn't help but wonder, was the comment to him or for him?

* * *

Hogan hummed in thought, taking a moment to enjoy the attention being lavished on his jaw. "Pretend?" He echoed back slowly. This time Newkirk hummed, in affirmation. The hand still gripping the Brits bicep slipped up to take a firm, yet gentle, hold of his throat - pushing him back just far enough for Hogan to be able to see his face clearly. His other hand slipped around Newkirk's back to settle into the dip at the small, making sure to keep him otherwise in place.

He studied his Corporal's features closely. He had to admire his acting, his expression was blasé mixed with hopeful. However, his eyes betrayed him. Showing nervousness and the beginnings of fear the longer Hogan looked and stayed silent. How was he doing this? Not a hair of his wig out of place… his make-up still perfectly applied… no - near perfect. A closer inspection showed that his lipstick had smudged near the corner of his mouth, just the smallest amount. He was shocked by the force of his own desire flooding him at the sight of this imperfection. "Yes," he hissed roughly, tugging the other man in and crashing their mouths together - smudging the lipstick further.

* * *

Hogan held nothing back, plundering the Englishman's mouth with wild abandon, both men groaning as their teeth clacked together. Hogan chased the mildly sweet taste of champagne until he found the smoky bite of cigarette beneath. Clever fingers carded through his hair, tugging this side of painful, in retaliation he faintly squeezed the throat he still held in his grip.

Newkirk gasped, breaking the kiss. Hogan pushed his thumb up beneath the Brits chin to force his head back and bare his throat further. Though he was fairly sure Newkirk was enjoying himself at least as much as he was if the sounds he made and the fact that he didn't struggle were any evidence, the visual confirmation was quite pleasing to his ego. A blush stained the Corporal's cheeks beneath closed eyes, his lips parted around panting breaths.

Though he was quite obviously holding himself still at an effort, Hogan could feel him subtly straining into his hands. He wouldn't ask for it, of course, they both knew he'd asked for enough already. Too much even. But God did his body beg so sweetly. He would take whatever Hogan would deign to give him and be grateful for it.

* * *

Hogan's thumb slowly traced down the front of Newkirk's throat. _Mine._ He was pleased to find that other than slitting his eyes open to watch him, Newkirk didn't move a muscle. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not when a new wave of desire overcame him at the feel of Newkirk's adam's apple bobbing against his thumb. _All mine._ Before this night he had never so much as given another man a second glance, yet here he was finding every proof of the masculine beneath the feminine veneer quite intoxicating.

A quick, almost inaudible whimper, escaped the man under him as Hogan leaned in slowly - stopping a hairsbreadth from connecting just to enjoy his power, the feel of warm breaths puffing against him. A rustle sounded from nearby breaking the moment. Hogan's attention snapped around, expecting the worst but finding nothing more than a deer.

Newkirk hummed and slipped out of Hogan's hold, hand sliding down his arm into his hand, giving a tug then slipping free. "Come now. The others must be waiting. There will be other opportunities." He tossed his commanding officer a cheeky wink but Hogan didn't miss the sad undertones to his expression.

"Promise?"

* * *

Author Note: I do have ideas for a sequel to this. It's mostly a collection of interconnecting scenes. I'm also working on finishing my other half-published story which I will cross-publish here when it's complete, it is NOT slash. **And** I've got a couple of hilarious crossover ideas mostly storyboarded out. One slash and one not, based on the Jurassic Park and Fallout 'verses - not at the same time.

Though I do have a basic storyboard for the sequel (I've practically written the EPILOGUE!)... I could use some help with specific scene prompts. I have a google doc with the current prompts I have linked in the author notes of the AO3 version of this story, you can find it there for more information or PLEASE feel free to message me directly here and I'll send you the link. I hope you enjoyed the story and PLEASE leave me feedback!


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